


My Little Universe

by ghostboi



Series: Graveyard Digger, Coffin Case Sinner [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Drinking, Insecure Dean, M/M, Masochism, Obsessive Behavior, Obsessive Dean, Psychosis, Psychotic Dean, Serial Killer Dean, Smut, Top Dean, dean has a very brief moment of insecurity, masochist sam, pain play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5958025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostboi/pseuds/ghostboi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'What if Sam was weary of his eccentricities and his possessive rages and his <i>need</i> to do the things he did? What if his brother, his beautiful, perfect, far-more-deserving brother, wanted more than Dean?'</p><p>Dean has a moment. Sam straightens him out. Silly Dean.<br/>[Serial killer series]</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Little Universe

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a couple weeks ago & then promptly forgot about it. Oops.
> 
> Oh. Forgot to answer this: "Here's a random: Are you a guy or is your username a horrible tease? :D"  
> I'm a guy. ;-) But i'm also a horrible tease, just so we're clear.

That itch had been crawling up his spine for six days when Sam had rolled his eyes and told him to go get his fix. Hours later and the itch was gone; the constant, driving _urge_ was dispelled. He felt almost at peace – Zen, Sam would tease him. 

That was until he walked into their motel room and found it empty.

Dean checked the room, though there wasn’t much to check: the main room, the small bathroom, the miniscule closet. All empty, no Sam. It was good, it was fine. His little brother was probably out grabbing some ice or a bite to eat from one of the places down the street. 

As the minutes ticked by, so did Dean’s reasoning.  
They had been living this crazy, on-the-run drifter life since Sam was fourteen years old: four years now. What if his brother was weary of it? What if Sam was weary of _him_? Of his eccentricities and his possessive rages and his _need_ to do the things he did? Of his burning, consuming need for Sam? What if his brother, his beautiful, perfect, far-more-deserving brother, wanted more than Dean?

Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth, fingers twitching, as he paced from the door to the bathroom and back. His eyes flicked to Sam’s duffel, sitting next to his bed, for the hundredth time. His brother was coming back. Sam wouldn't leave him. His things were here, he only went out for a walk, he was coming back.

He was sitting at the small, round wood table in the corner an hour later - half-empty bottle of whiskey and his gun in front of him - when the door finally, _finally_ opened and his brother entered the motel room.

Dean’s eyes locked on his little brother – a young man now, his Sammy; tall & muscled and better than everything he had ever experienced – as Sam locked the door. 

“Hey Dean,” Sam greeted with a smile, a plastic bag of take-out in one hand and a six pack of beer in the other, “Took a walk to get some air, and came across this Chinese place. Conned that cute cashier down the street into selling me some beer, too. Feeling better now?” 

His brother placed the items on the table and his gaze fell on the whiskey and the gun. Hazel eyes lifted to him, met his own green gaze, and Sam asked,  
“Dean?”

The concern in Sam’s voice, the _worry_ , nearly did him in.  
Dean swallowed hard; his voice was whiskey-rough when he asked,  
“You think about leaving me, Sam?”

Sam stared at him for a moment, eyes flicking to the gun for a second and his brain working the puzzle which was Dean Winchester, before returning to his face. His little brother scowled slightly, brows drawing together.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice was soft as the younger man moved to his side. “Why do you do this to yourself? You know I would never leave you.”

“No?” he would forever deny that his voice cracked on the word, “Gotta be getting sick of this life, Sam. Sick of me and -- Don’t you want a house, stability, all that shit?”  
He watched, green eyes taking in Sam’s every movement, as his brother stepped forward. A moment later, the younger man was on his lap, leg on either side of the chair and chest against his own.

“When I decide I want all of that, it will be with you.”

Dean shivered, eyes slipping closed for a moment, as the younger Winchester leaned in to breathe against his ear, “And only you.”  
Fingers brushed through his hair, slipped down the side of his face.  
“Dean, look at me.”

He did as his brother requested and met Sam’s hazel gaze. He raised a shaking hand to brush his fingers down his little brother’s cheek, and Sam graced him with a smile. The _love_ he saw on Sam’s face had him swallowing again, heart trying to crawl out of his chest to join his brother’s. His eyes fell to their hands as Sam reached out and took hold of his, placing it on Sam’s hip. 

“You trust me, Dean?”

“Of course. Completely,” his answer was immediate and sincere.

“Then trust this, okay? This body,” the younger man murmured, lifting his free hand to brush a thumb over Dean’s mouth, “belongs to you. Only you. Your name is on it, Dean. It’s _yours_.” 

He lifted Dean’s hand to his chest then, pressed it against it, over his heart. Dean could feel the heartbeat beneath his palm, and he brushed his thumb over the spot where he knew his name was carved in his brother’s skin, beneath his t-shirt. His green gaze lifted to meet Sam’s as his brother brushed fingers through his hair again and vowed, 

“This heart belongs to you, and only you. If you need to cut it out and hold it in your hands to know that it will always, _always_ be yours, and yours alone, then I’ll let you do it.”

A soft, broken sound escaped Dean’s throat and he pressed forward, claiming Sam’s mouth with his own in a hungry kiss. He slipped his hands beneath his little brother’s ass and stood; Sam wrapped long legs around his waist, holding on, as Dean carried him to the bed. 

Moments later, he had his brother pressed down on the bed, covering that hard, long body with his own as he possessed the younger Winchester’s mouth. His hands fumbled at the button of Sam’s jeans; he paused as his baby brother pulled away a bit, panting for air, and breathed, 

“Love you, Dean. I couldn’t be without you, I couldn’t. You’ve always been my heart, always, and if you ever doubt that then I’ll shoot you myself.”

A low, hungry growl escaped him and he was biting at Sam’s throat, licking and sucking and drawing purrs of pleasure from his little brother. He shoved the front of the other’s jeans open, reached in to slip a hand around his dick, and Sam arched hard against him, his name a plea on the younger man’s lips.

Seconds later, he had Sam’s hard dick in his mouth, swallowing down half of his impressive length, his tongue pressing into the slit. Sam jerked hard in pleasure, Dean’s name falling from parted lips and shudders running through his body. His baby brother was a moaning, writing mess beneath him when Dean slid further down the bed and shoved Sam’s legs further apart. 

He leaned in to trail his tongue lightly over the other’s hole, before flattening his tongue and swiping over it. Sam cried out in pleasure, rocking back against his mouth, and Dean growled softly and buried his face deeper between his spread cheeks. He licked and sucked, pressing his tongue into his brother’s tight little pucker, working it open. He wanted more – he could never get enough of Sam, ever - and caught the edge of his boy’s spit-slicked hole with his thumb, slipped it in. He tugged Sam’s tight little hole open, working it with his thumb and tongue, until he was able to lick deeper. He growled as he began to tongue-fuck him in earnest, feeling the tight muscle begin to give for him. 

He groaned against the other’s wet, slick opening as Sam rocked back against his mouth and begged hoarsely,  
“Fuck, Dean, please, want you inside me. Let me ride your cock, I’ll ride it good, I swear, please.”

He rose up – Sam whined in protest at the loss of his mouth – and jerked off his t-shirt. It went flying across the room; his jeans and underwear went next. Sam watched, pupils blown wide and mouth parted as he panted for breath, as Dean jerked his jeans and boxers off his slim hips. He jerked his little brother’s shirt off, then pulled him up to his knees. 

Dean caught Sam’s lips in a bruising kiss, laying claim to the other’s mouth with teeth and tongue, and his brother shifted forward, slid up against him to rub their dicks together. He smirked as the younger man shoved him on his back suddenly and crawled over him.

“Need to ride you _now_ ,” Sam pleaded, “Dean, _please_..” 

He grasped the base of his cock in his fist, biting down on his bottom lip: Sam was gorgeous like this, flushed and lust-crazy and begging. “C’mon, baby,” he invited, “Drop that pretty little ass down on my dick.” He watched as Sam lined himself up, lowered himself so that the head of Dean’s cock was brushing his spit-slick hole; both men groaned as Sam lowered himself, pressing down to take his brother inside him.

Dean arched up suddenly, fingers digging into Sam’s hips as he shoved himself halfway inside his brother. Sam’s moan of pleasure-pain, the whisper of “Dean, yeah, shove it in,” had him gripping tighter, shoving deeper. He shuddered as Sam’s muscles tightened around his aching dick, pleasure coursing through him. Only Sam could make him feel this good, this desperate. Moments later, his brother was shifting, thrusting down against him, hands pressed against his chest for balance.

Dean watched as Sam rode him, bearing down on him before raising himself up to slam down again, head bowed slightly and hair falling over his forehead. Sam was the most beautiful thing he had witnessed, ever. He would tear the world apart for the younger man without a second thought.  
“Love me, Sammy?”  
Sam’s teasing smirk sent a stab of pleasure of a different type through him, and the other said, “I made out with a dead girl for you. Yeah I think I love you.”  
“You did,” Dean reached up to brush his fingers across Sam’s mouth, “and it was hot. Even hotter to see you on my cock like this.”  
He bit his own lip as Sam caught his fingers in his mouth, began to suck them while slamming himself down on Dean’s throbbing dick.

When his brother released his fingers with a soft, wet pop, it was to say, voice thready with lust,  
“Gonna cum, Dean. Come in me, fill me up, c’mon Dean, tear my tight little ass apart, you know you want it. You know you want to hurt me, wanna make me bleed on your cock.”

He growled, slammed his hips against his brother’s firm ass. His brother’s filthy beautiful mouth was undoing him completely. Dean grabbed Sam’s hair, tangling his fingers in it and jerking his head down to bite hard on his bottom lip. His baby brother moaned against his mouth and began to cum, hot fluid shooting over Dean’s stomach and chest, muscles contracting tight around his throbbing cock.

He bit down harder, tasted blood, and his own orgasm ripped through him. He released Sam’s mouth and gasped “Sammy!” as he shot his load inside his brother; Sam groaned, muscles milking his pulsing cock, and pressed their mouths together again, smearing blood across Dean’s lips and tongue. 

Dean held Sam tight as his brother collapsed on top of him, gasping for breath.  
“Sammy,” he brushed his mouth against the other’s, licking at the bleeding cut, savoring the metallic taste of his brother in his mouth.  
“Sammy. Love you, baby boy. Can’t breathe without you right here, without touching you and tasting you. Fucking die without you.”

“Mm,” his brother snuggled closer, slipping strong arms around his waist, “Love you too, Dean. ‘m not going anyplace, ever. You’re gonna be stuck with me til we’re both old and I’m pushing you around in a wheelchair. Your name isn’t just carved on my skin, big brother. It’s carved in my heart.”


End file.
